An Ex-Hooker's Letter to his Younger Self
by Reese S. Quill
Summary: What Brody wishes he could tell his younger self. An alternative take on what could have happened on and after "Guilty Pleasures".
1. Act I

_A/N: Inspired by the true 'An Ex-Hooker's Letter to her Younger Self'. _

* * *

_lights will guide you home / and I will try to fix you_

_-_Coldplay

* * *

Dear twenty-one-year-old Brody,

Don't do it.

We both know what I'm talking about, so I'm not going to waste time beating around the bush. You have a double-life, and it's not as cool as Spiderman's. By day, you're a student at NYADA. An average student. Overall nice guy, if a little slick at times.

By night, you're a hooker.

I know, I know. You can't lie this time, so now all you can throw back are your excuses. I've heard them all. Buddy, I _made _them all. I remember as well as you do how it was like in that stupid little farm in Montana, living with the knowledge that if you stayed there, you'd _never _reach your full potential. I remember your family laughing at you when you told them you wanted to perform on Broadway, and then the disbelief on their faces when they saw you weren't laughing with them.

Plain as day, I remember Carmen Tibideaux giving you a thumbs-up after you sang _Somewhere Over the Rainbow _for your audition piece. How the hell couldn't I? It's the first time you got praise instead of teasing after a performance. It was the first time someone _really and truly_ recognized your talent, and I remember how you almost wanted to cry because of it.

It's also where you made your first mistake.

"You'll have no problem coming to NYADA in the fall?" Ms Tibideaux had asked. "Assuming that you get accepted."

And like an idiot, you said, "Of course not."

Like you didn't know that even if your parents _wanted _to fork up the cash to get you into college, they still wouldn't have been able to do it in a million years. If you're honest with yourself, you thought of Ms Tibideaux as a Broadway goddess (I still do, actually) and you didn't want to make yourself seem inferior to her other students in any way. Who knows what could've happened if you 'fessed up about needing money? She might've given you a scholarship.

Or jacked you out altogether. I can't say that wasn't a possibility, too.

Well, you got your acceptance letter; and when fall rolled around, your family found your bedroom empty and you were on a bus to the airport. You should've at least said good-bye to them, you know. They might've thought you were a little cuckoo, and they never did understand your talent, but they loved you. I get that now.

At New York, you're living out your fantasy. It's like your own personal Disneyland. The sights, the sounds, the smells, _everything_ was better than you dreamed it would be.

Except the traffic. It's as horrible as everyone says it is.

But like Dad used to say, "You only get crop when you've put some backbone into it." You needed to make ends meet. At first, you thought it'd be easy. Get a job being a waiter or DJ at some club. Work part-time stacking CDs or tutoring or whatever. No big deal, you thought to yourself as you went back to your dorm room after yet another night of fruitless job-searching. You'll find _something _eventually. _Wrong, wrong, wrong. _If a bookstore needed an assistant, if a McDonald's wanted another fry-cook, they had a line a street long of people begging for it.

And you never could lower yourself down enough to beg.

So one night – a week before your tuition was due – you did something unthinkable. You dressed up in a tux, went to that hotel downtown, slipped into the ballroom, and….you know.

Your grandmother always said you were a good-looking boy, and _they _agreed with her.

The first days were terrifying, I remember. You were so _ashamed. _You could barely look at anyone in the eye, and you pushed the few friends that you had – Nikki, Joe, Tanner? Remember them? – away. But hey, you always were an actor. You learned to cover the feeling up, even if it never did leave you. And ever the perfectionist, you got good at what you did. Great, even. You're not proud of it, but you did.

* * *

That was a long time ago, though. Way back in freshman year. Pretty soon, you're going to be a junior; and you're already counting up the bills in your head and how much _work _you're going to do this semester to keep up with them.

Don't do it.

Seriously, man. Don't. You've gotten lucky, these past two years; it's always been a quick in-and-out, and none of the women you've been with have blabbed or were psychopaths. But luck doesn't hold forever. Take my advice, _please._ Apply for financial aid, go down on your knees to Ms Tibideaux, ask for work in the college kitchens. _Anything._ Just make sure you enter this year with your integrity.

Why? Besides pointing out the obvious (STDs, you hate it, etc.), I'm going to say you're going to have some pretty major things lined up this year that you're going to want it for.

Not the least one Miss Rachel Berry.

When you first see her – wide brown eyes and dark hair and dazzling smile and all – follow your gut instincts. Yeah, even if you're in a towel late at night in a co-ed bathroom. Talk to her. Be her friend. Because those instincts? They're _right. _Do you remember those love songs you used to make up on the field when you were bored, the ones that you always thought you'd sing to your one true love? Well, warm up those vocal cords, my friend.

This girl's _special, _and you're going to long to stand high in her esteem more than you ever wanted to in Ms Tibideaux's.

Maybe you won't listen to me. You're too used to the life you're now leading, and it's not like you can't have _both _a love life and maintain your 'job', right? Uh, no you can't, but you're probably going to disregard that, too. Fine. I'm just going to warn you, you're going to face a _hell _of a lot of trouble because of it.

* * *

You'll make enemies, and get found out. You've had your first major warning before. Remember in sophomore year, when you walked in that hotel room only to find Ms July sitting on the bed with her arms crossed? You know, that devil-teacher who'd been tormenting you since you got there? You could've been _expelled. _You offered to do anything for her – clean her apartment, pick up her groceries, sleep with her? – but all she did was raise her hand up and order you to explain yourself.

So you did.

And thank God, she didn't say anything after that. She left the money on the desk, strode right past you, and walked out. Another lucky shot, Brody. No matter what anyone says, Ms July looks out for her students; she let you off at that time, and from then on, she's _Cassie _instead of _Ms July. _

But if you don't clean up your act this year, you're going to piss her off.

See, you're not the only one who's going to see that Rachel's something special. Cassie begins paying attention to her on her very first lesson, and she pushes Rachel (seriously, she _shoves _her) to her full potential. When she figures out you have an interest in Rachel – _and _you still haven't quit your double-life – it's not going to be pretty. Later, she'll finally take you up on your offer to sleep with you, but it's not a compliment. It's a warning; both to you and Rachel, though the latter doesn't get it.

You'll want to ignore it, of course. Want to shelf her advice as words of an old has-been that never really made it. Don't. Deep down, you know Cassie's plenty smart, and she's trying to put you back on the right track.

You're going to find it hard – _so impossibly hard _– to keep secrets; firstly because you care about Rachel, you want to share everything with her; and secondly because you eventually move into her apartment. Even you've got to admit that's tough; she and her friend, Kurt, will be staying in _pretty _close quarters with you. Besides that, keeping secrets will simply hurt your relationship with Rachel. The result is that she's not going to be completely honest with you herself.

That jerk of an ex will keep popping out of _nowhere._

* * *

When Santana Lopez comes around, please, for the love of all things good and merciful_, stay on her good side. _She'll tell you she's a hard-core friend. She is. She'll prove it when she, Cassie-style, finds out your job; gets Rachel's ex, Finn, to beat the crap out of you; and then when she spills the beans to Rachel herself even when you've moved out and did everything that she wanted.

The last one is the worst.

You'll feel like your heart is being ripped out of your chest when Rachel slips you a rolled up wad of cash and asks, mockingly, if it's enough to take you out to dinner. You'll want to break down and run away, you want to take it all back, because you know that this is much, much worse than being out on the streets, much worse than being expelled and sent back to Montana. But you can't break down.

So you get angry instead.

You'll shout at her, tell her that Finn was the one who beat you up. Tell her that you know she slept with him at that wedding. It was only actually a shot in the dark, but Rachel's horrified face confirms that it's true. This does not improve your heartbreak.

She'll start sobbing then, and everything's a mess. You'll decide to take the last step. Just to end it all. You'll say, simply, that she's still in love with Finn.

And the strangest thing happens.

She immediately stops crying. Her tear-stained face will be given a hard, blazing expression, and before you can think, she'll move forward and slap you.

"My life does _not_ revolve around Finn," she'll seethe. "And I'm _done _being disrespected."

She'll leave without another word.

* * *

You honestly won't know what to do from there. _Forget _the rest of the day's classes. You'll slink into your dorm-room and mope, wondering how the hell did you got to where you were. And _that _just makes you even more depressed, because you know it's entirely your fault. You left your family, you weren't able to find an honest job, you've been a jerk. Now, you're just paying the price.

You'll go through the motions the next few days, utterly dead inside. It's even more terrible than the first few days of your prostitution. Now, you can't even bother to put your show-face on, neglecting your daily routines in favour of staring listlessly out the window. Trust me, it'll show. You'll have no answers when your professors, and even Carmen Tibideaux, asks you what's wrong.

Only one of them really knows.

At some point, Cassie will pull (more like _haul_) you aside after class. Her face will be grim when she confronts you about the grey, hazy state you've been living in the past few weeks. When you stare at her blankly, she'll sigh. "This is about Schwimmer, isn't it?" she'll ask, wry as ever. "Lemme guess. She found out about you being a man-whore."

You'll start to pull away at this point. "None of your business."

"It _became _my business once you started moving around like a flopping jelly-fish in my studio," she'll counter. Normally, this is when you make a witty comeback. You and Cassie love your bantering. But your blank face will stay the same, and this, I think, is what worries her more than anything else. "Listen, Brody," she'll say carefully. "Stay in your dorm-room tonight, okay?"

"I'm not going to sleep with you again," you'll say before you can stop yourself, and she'll smirk.

"Uh-huh. Because nobody in their right mind would say _that _to me, I'm gonna let that pass. But stay in your dorm-room."

* * *

It'd save you a lot of humiliation if you take her advice. Wait patiently in your room. Try not to think depressing thoughts so much, because they'll be your undoing. Don't pace around the floor like a caged lion. _Especially _don't answer the paging that you get that night from one of your clients, and leave just to make a quick buck. That will be the night your luck will run out.

It'll be pouring rain, and there's no way you can get a cab, but you walk anyway. You'll know exactly where to go, because the lady is one of your regulars. She won't mind that you're soaked. Both of you need it to be quick—Cassie might be at your room at any moment, and your client doesn't want her husband to find out. And you _are _fast.

Just not fast enough.

He'll be home early because of some big promotion, waiting for his wife to greet him. His face shifts from content to savage in less than a second when he gives you a glance and knows _exactly _what's happening. She tries to tell him you're here to help her…manage things, but he doesn't buy it.

They never do.

For the second time in two months, you're getting beaten up—only this time, you won't be able to summon enough energy to fight back. He pounds you mercilessly, his wife screaming in the background, while you just look straight ahead, hanging limp. It'll hurt, yeah…but you've been hurt before, and nothing is excruciating as _that. _

Finally, when you're barely conscious and all that's left of your face are dents and bruises, the man will kick you out of his apartment. You'll lie next to the dumpsters, dripping blood and raindrops.

You won't know how long you stay there. You can't move. Can't think. Can't even sleep, for Christ's sake.

You expect you're going to die. You actually welcome it, at that point.

Then you hear voices.

Santana. "I think the guy said they saw someone here—wait—is that—"

Kurt. "Oh my God—"

Cassie. "What the _hell _happened? You motherfucking idiot, I told you to stay in your—do either of you have a cell phone, we need to call an ambulance—"

"Brody!"

_Rachel._

And _that's _when you'll pass out.


	2. Act II

When you finally come to, you'll find yourself in a hospital bed with a nurse looking at you kindly and asking if there's anything you need. You'll shift your gaze downwards, because you know, just _know, _that she'd been informed with what got you in that situation in the first place. Everyone probably did, and you don't want to face that just yet. After a short silence, she'll give you your food on a tray, airplane-style, and tell you that your friends have been visiting you every day and will probably be coming around later.

_What friends? _will be your first thought. Then you'll realize. _Oh._

You honestly doubt that Santana will show up, and you won't be entirely certain about Kurt. But Cassie, you know instinctively, will come.

And so will Rachel.

_You can't deal with that yet. You can't._

The first time they visit, you'll pretend you're still in the coma that you've apparently been in for several days; even if you're all too aware of Cassie's gaze assessing you like she always does, and Rachel's soft, smooth hand on your forehead. For some reason, the nurse doesn't blow your cover. You'll listen to her telling them that you're stable and likely to get better soon, and then hear the _tap-taps _of her shoes as she leaves you and the two women alone.

Cassie, as always, breaks the silence. "Well, Schwimmer, I'm impressed. You've managed to reduce the hottest piece of ass in NYADA to _this._"

Rachel's voice will be soft and vulnerable when she replies, "Shut up, Cassie."

"I've _shut up _about it for days, _and _I'm your teacher—I think I have a right to lecture you now. You're an egotistical, self-centred, manipulative _bitch_, Berry."

"Back at you."

"You're also a selfish coward."

"Excuse me?"

"Don't deny it, Scwhimmer. When he didn't dump your sorry behind within two weeks, I thought you managed to convince him that you _cared _about him. Then you find about his job, and bam! Break up with him. Leave him to be beaten up by a sadist."

"What was I supposed to do? He was _selling his body. _It's _disgusting._"

"Did he tell you he _liked _it?"

A short pause, and then Rachel says, "No, he—he said he was using it to pay for his tuition, but-"

"But what? There are dozens of homeless people in NYC, Berry, and if you haven't noticed, Brody's too proud to beg for something. _He thought that he had no choice, _and the first thing you do when you find out is to get the hell away from him. Why _would _he tell you? You didn't even _consider _trying to help."

"_You_ knew about it before!"

"He'd deny it, stupid. And he wouldn't accept help from me. _I'm _not his girlfriend."

"I'm not, either."

The sound of a chair scraping. "I'm out of here. I can't stand the sight of your miserable little face."

There's the slamming of the door, and silence. Without opening your eyes, you can tell that Rachel has tears swimming down her face, but she doesn't make a sound. All she does is brush the hair out of your eyes and plead, "_Please, please wake up_," so desperately before she runs away that you resolve to be up and ready the next time they come, even if _will _be intensely difficult.

* * *

Thankfully, you'll be as good as your word. You don't delay the inevitable.

Rachel will be alone the next time she comes (you'll find out later that Cassie was just too _sick _of all this to bother with hospital visits anymore). She'll be holding a bouquet of flowers; and she'll gasp when she sees you up, because whatever else she'd said, she didn't expect you to be awake. Both of you will pretend not to notice. You'll chat about idle things – class, her upcoming Funny Girl audition – in a _really _strained manner, not even giving a hint to your break-up or prostitution or how you wound up in the hospital.

It'll be more horrible than the last time you spoke with her.

* * *

But she'll come back. She'll _always _come back after that, though you have no idea why. She'll sit in the armchair next to your bed and do your homework with you and keep you updated on what's happening in class; she'll hold still and stretch and twirl carefully while you instruct her, trying to measure her up in Cassie's standards; she'll even attempt to cook dinner for you again with that little kitchen set on the side, though she ends up ordering pizza just like last time anyway.

Finally, there'll come a point when the nurse announces you're well enough to go to class again. You'll pack all the stuff Rachel's gotten for you (the stuff that you'd left in her apartment), and you're about to leave just when Rachel opens the door holding a bag of goodies. She'll be surprised when she sees you out of the hospital gown and ready to leave, but she won't say anything. So you fill in the quiet. Tell her that you're okay now and you're ready to go back to NYADA. She'll just nod, dimly.

Then, when you run out of things you say, you collect your bags and thank her. For everything. You'll be half-way out the door when her hand catches your arm, and when she asks you _that _question. "You're not going to do it again, are you?"

You don't have to wonder what she means by 'it'.

You'll consider lying to her, of course. This is the problem about people knowing about what you do; they'll try and stop you, and a part of you thinks that those half-hearted excuses you've been giving yourself the past few years might not cut it with them. But you'll look at Rachel, and you'll know that the time for secrets and lying are over. "It's a living, Rach," you'll say calmly.

That'll be when she'll start screaming. She'll start yelling at you, asking if you want _this _to happen to you again, and you try to calm her by saying this is the first time; and of course, _that _leads her in to asking if you _want _it to happen again, this is a wake-up call, can't you _see _that—

Don't run away next time. Don't just grab your bags and take the nearest taxi to NYADA, then head straight to your room and lock the doors.

It won't make a difference, anyway.

* * *

Rachel will corner you after class the next day. And the next. And the next. Sometimes, when she talks to you, she brings Kurt and Santana. The diva boy will usually either help Rachel out or stand a safe distance from you both. The devil-girl, surprisingly, will always be quiet. You can't be sure, but sometimes you'll see an expression in her face that looks a little bit like guilt.

She'll ask you again and again if you've visited one of your _clients_, so you reply, honestly, that you haven't. (Your bruises are still glaring at you in the mirror, and if you show up in a hotel like that you'll _never _get another job again.) She'll smile, the way you thought she'll never smile at you again when she found out about your issues. But when she starts saying you don't _have _to do _it _anymore, ever again, that's when you start to push her away.

I'm telling you this now. She's not going to let you.

At this point, you'd have seen before how determined Rachel is when she puts her mind to something, but you've also seen her _lose. _You think this is just one of the things that's just way over her head – how could she understand, she has two doting daddies – and that she'll eventually let go of it and leave you alone.

That's what everyone else did.

That's what _she _did, before.

But she won't. Not this time. You'll tell her it's not her fault, it's _your _choice, but Cassie's words had hit home; she won't let you keep doing this to yourself. And you'll see that when, a few weeks later, your bruises are all cleaned up and you get a call from one of your clients. You'll grab a bag of your necessities and head out the door, only to find her waiting for you. You'll tell her to go away. She won't. She'll freaking _stalk _you to your client's house, and you have to give up your appointment for today because the lady is _not _going to have some strange girl watching you two.

* * *

Rachel will force you to eat dinner with her at McDonald's instead. Weirdly, that's the perfect setting for you to figure your life out.

You'll tell her everything. _Everything. _What starts out as a story of how your brother made you get over your fear of clowns suddenly turns into chronicle after chronicle of family adventures and how you left them and how you went to New York and why did what you did and how you're utterly despicable; but she stops you there, and then it's her turn to tell you her journey from Lima, Ohio to New York. You'll laugh when she tells you that time she gets drunk, glare at the ground when she talks to you about Finn and Noah and Jesse, and grin when she, her face shining, remembers with absolute clarity her glee club's win at Nationals.

If there's one thing you'll learn about her in this conversation, it's that she _loves _her glee club.

Then you'll get to talking about more recent stuff. You'll piece together how Santana found out about your job – "_She looked in my trash?!" _you'll say, and she'll giggle – and you'll admit the gory details, all of them, about Santana calling Finn and Finn beating you up.

Rachel will frown when you finish your story. "Let me get this straight," she'll say. "He called me _his future wife_?"

"Yeah."

"That's….kind of creepy."

"No kidding." But you'll be staring at the table. "Still, odds are in his favour, right? You still-"

"_No_," she'll snap at you. "We're done. I _told _him we were done." You'll point out, carefully, that she hasn't exactly been acting like it. And then it's her turn to hang her head a little. The word _wedding _is unspoken, but both of you are aware of it. "Listen," she'll say. "I've…never had much attention unless I _force _it on me, you know? Him trying to get me back, even when I've told him we were over…it was flattering." She'll cover her face with her hands. "That makes me sound like a jerk."

"No," you'll say, because you know what it's like craving someone to look at you and see a star.

She'll know that, and that gives her the courage to go on. "And Finn and I…we've always had so much _history. _He was the first boy who'd ever made me feel special, wanted, _sexy_…"

"You're crazy sexy," you'll say, as an inside joke, and she'll finally look up and grin.

"I've been carrying that weight around with me for _months_. I wasn't sure I could let go of him," she'll admit. "That night at the wedding fiasco, he told me that we were _endgame. _Looking back I find that a little insulting and a touch arrogant, but it won me over, and….well, I wasn't exactly completely sober at that time. But I liked it."

You'll breathe out deeply, because you think she just admitted you were her rebound.

But like she knew what you were thinking, she'll shake her head. "No, I don't think it was like that. I just wasn't sure what my feelings were." Her eyes slide down again. "We've been breaking up and making up for such a long time, I'm not sure what it'll feel like if I really decide to end it _permanently. _I didn't even remember what it was like before." She'll pause. "I think tonight helped. It made me remember."

"I think tonight helped me, too," you'll say sincerely. Because it really did. You'll have an ache in your chest missing your family, you'll be groaning at the thought of the time you've wasted worrying about how you're going to hide your next appointment when you could've been hanging out with Rachel or studying, and you'll _really, really _want to do better. You have before, of course. You always have. The only difference will be that this time, you admit it.

For a moment, neither of you will know what to say. You'll fidget nervously, unsure on what to go on from here, until Rachel says, "I think it's time to apologize.

You'll stare at her, and she'll say defensively that her dads always taught her that if she wanted closure, you have to apologize first.

And to your shock, _she's _the one apologizing to you. You'll want to interrupt, but she's frowning at you in that adorable way of hers that always says _listen to me_. And you do. You listen as she spends around ten minutes saying sorry on how she _abandoned_ you because of your profession, not caring about your side at all, for judging you so quickly when she should have been, if not a girlfriend, a _friend_, one that would've helped instead of run away.

When she's finally out of breath, you'll cut in that you're sorry, too.

For so many things you can't even count them.

There'll be a long, stretching silence, but it's peaceful this time instead of awkward. You'll feel like a weight's been lifted off your shoulders, and you'll be relieved, _so utterly relieved_, that everything's out in the open. No more secrets.

"So," you'll sigh, because you're sensing that things are going to be different from here on out and it's going to take a _lot _of work, "what do we do now?"

She'll say immediately you're going to stop being a prostitute, and you'll laugh at her and say that's pretty much a given. Then she smiles, really, _truly_ smiles at _you_, and she and you spend the rest of the night working out what you both are going to do.


	3. Act III

I know you're going to be pretty damn frustrated when you found out Santana got in two months what you couldn't do in two years (an honest job). But just be grateful that she keeps her promise to help you out in that department. Sure, you'll be cleaning up the bile and vomit in the bar she works in, but just go with it.

You'll find that whatever the job is, it's better than selling your body and being in danger every night. I know it won't be easy. There will be times when you hate having to do so much for so little money, times when you still reach for the pager Rachel will have long since thrown away, but it'll get better. You'll finally get your self-worth back.

And once the boss hears your voice and finds out how good you are with music, you'll be promoted to DJ.

You'll also spend a lot of one-on-one time with Santana, too, and as much as you want to hold a grudge against her, you'll find out that you can't. She was just looking out for her friend. Anyway, the girl can be pretty charming when she puts her mind to it.

_Charming _as is she'll torture customers with whoopee cushions and spiked drinks so many times that the boss will threaten to fire her and you're in stitches.

In between apologies and giving back refunds, she'll smirk at you, and you know that you guys are okay.

In between cleaning glasses and poring over music, you'll tell her your story, too. It's only fair, as Rachel has told you bits and pieces of hers, and you know some things about her that you're sure even Kurt and Rachel aren't aware about. You are, after all, the person escorting her home when it's after work and she's drunk; she's nowhere near over Brittany as she pretends to be.

In between the bickering and the teasing, you'll start to think that you might just be becoming friends with her.

* * *

You'll move back in with them, of course. Not because your Rachel's boyfriend again (you won't be sure for a while _what _you are to her), but so that they can keep a better eye on you. You'll think it's a little insulting that they don't trust you, but then, you know you kind of deserve it. You're on penance the moment you move your things back in the closet, using up space that _they _can use; you're the one they'll send to run errands to buy groceries, or carry their shopping, or deliver notes. But hey, it's not like they didn't do this before.

The only real difference is that you'll no longer be entitled to walk around naked.

* * *

You'll need to catch up with your studies because despite your efforts, the three weeks in the hospital hasn't exactly improved your grades. None of your teachers will cut you any slack—not even Cassie, who'll say she's just forcing you to make up for your horrible mediocrity before your 'car accident'. Every day, it's splits, twirls, arabesques, the whole shin-bag.

But it'll be okay. Because after you've performed everything to perfection, she'll transform the look from _you better make up for it _to _I'm glad you're doing okay now, and I'm proud of you._

Not that she'll ever say those words out loud.

* * *

The hardest part will come on spring break, when your room-mate's things are packed and Rachel states that if they're not spending the vacation in New York then you aren't, either. She'll hold out the phone, and her two friends will glower at you until you groan and pick it up. You'll dial the number you've longed to for years and say, in a shaky voice, "Hi, Mom."

The moment you step out of the plane, you'll be hit by a dozen relatives trying to hug you. One of them will be your brother, though he'll never admit it. Your parents are crying, and so are you, and you all pretend not to notice.

You'll spend two weeks running around in the farm you used to hate so much, catching up with old pals, scooping up your nephews and nieces and whirling them around in the air, eating your mom's famous apple pie. When your sister's twelve-year-old twins Tony and Tammy start up a campfire and begin singing songs, you join in, and they'll stare at you in awe and beg you to do some more and can you _please, please _teach them how to sing like that? When your sister admits they've gotten the music gene and dead set in following Uncle Brody's footsteps, you'll feel prouder than if you'd been given an Oscar.

When you and the twins set up a live musical performance and your family bursts into a round of applause, the place finally feels like home.

After the two weeks are over, you're going to have a lot of kids hanging on your legs and pleading with you to stay as you try to move towards the airport doors. Your heart will be in your throat when, one by one, you give them a hug and say good-bye. You'll promise, absolutely _promise_, you'll be back as soon as you can. It'll be okay. Your brother's fourteen-year-old Andrea is the family's first techno-whiz, so you can use Skype.

* * *

Rachel will confess, later on, that she's had a less-than-idealistic spring break; which you'll find weird, since Kurt and Santana are positively glowing after seeing their friends. You'll ask why, and when she says "Finn", try not to let seethe with anger so much. She'll laugh, but she'll also admit her ex isn't very happy she's still hanging out with you.

Don't joke about having to carry a baseball bat around in case of ambushes, because her smile will vanish like the sun behind a cloud and she'll say that she warned him specifically not to go near you. Things will get awkward, then, and you'll spend the night thinking about how stupid you sounded like.

But tomorrow's always a new day, and you try to make amends by taking the three out to lunch at Tiffany's. Using your honest-earned money.

She'll accept your apology.

* * *

You'll finish the semester in NYADA with a lot more flourish than you started, grinning from ear to ear in the curtain call because your family showed up in the final performance. They _get _it now, why you wanted to come to this place, and you'll smile as the twins run backstage asking for autographs and go straight to Rachel because they _loved _her voice (you have to swear later that they really didn't know who she was beforehand) and laugh uncontrollably when they start following Cassie around like two lovesick puppies.

You'll know she loves it, really.

* * *

Things will get a little awkward in the apartment. Your brother will be confused on why you'd choose to live in this place with three space-obsessed room-mates, and while you'll tell him it's no big deal, he'll be looking around disapprovingly any way. He'll ask if it's about the money; and if that's the case, he'll loan you some if you wanted a place of your own.

You'll give him a sad smile, hug him (of course he tries to wrestle you off, but after five seconds of him hugging back), and say you're good here, thanks.

* * *

The ride to the airport will be tight. The family's will be divided up into three cabs, but you'll still get the one from the kids in it and they'll be jostling and pulling and singing so loud even you want to cover your ears. There'll be one good side, though. Rachel's coming with you to say good-bye, and every time five-year-old Anna shoves you to the side you get a little closer to her.

But you're going to have to remember, little pitchers have big eyes and ears.

"Is she your _girlfriend_?" Anna will ask, in a loud whisper. All jostling immediately stops as everyone pays attention to your answer. The twins especially will look hopeful. They think that Rachel's the greatest thing since peanut butter and jelly.

"Uh, no," you'll say, embarrassed, scooting a few inches away from aforementioned friend. Both of you will be bright red in the face. There'll be a few seconds of tension in the air; then the singing will begin again, and you'll relax. But Rachel will still be biting her lip, an odd look in her eyes.

In the airport, the kids will all run to their parents to give up their baggage, and you'll remind them to tell your brother you'll catch up at the boarding gate. Then you'll turn to Rachel, expecting to say your final good-byes until next year.

But before you can, she'll say, "Come to Lima with me."

You'll stare.

"I don't mean right now," she'll add quickly. "I mean…glee club's Nationals are in two weeks. I'd really appreciate it if you could, you know, see it with me?" She'll redden for the second time that night. "I get it if you don't want to watch some kids perform, but-"

"I bet it'll be great, Rach," you'll say, fixing her a smile. "I'll be there. Promise."

She'll grin, and you two quickly promise to set things up through email (mentally, you'll be wondering how much ice-cream and songs and begging it's going to take for you to convince Andrea to let you use the only working computer). Then, right before your about to leave, she'll stand on her tip-toes and kiss you on the cheek. "See you soon," she'll say quickly, blushing and practically running away.

You'll stare after her, stunned, until you get a text from your brother asking where the hell are you.

* * *

Lima will turn out precisely how you expected it. And somehow, utterly different. The suburban atmosphere, the heat of the summer, the graffiti swear words? You'll expect that. But when you're in Rachel's alma mater, heading towards the choir room like you both planned, your jaw will drop when a jock pours a slushy on some poor kid's face.

Rachel will have mentioned 'getting slushied' in passing, but you didn't think she was _serious. _Suddenly, you'll get a mental picture of a high school Rachel getting an icy-cold drink poured on her head every day. You'll _loathe _it.

And because you can't do anything about Rachel, but you _can _do something for _this _girl, you'll change directions and call out, "Hey! Leave her alone!"

The jock's at least a head taller than you. He'll laugh and pour down another one. The girl will start shivering, but the guy's got a strong grip on her arm. "What you gonna do about it?"

You'll glance at the girl. The mental picture will pop in your head again. "Fight, if that's really the only way to knock it in to your skull it's _wrong _for you to do this."

The boy's eyes will light up in the word _fight. _He'll let go of the girl (who's begging you in the background that it's _okay_, you don't have to do this) and go straight for your face.

But because you'll have learned your lesson the second time 'round, and have taken self-defence lessons since then just in case, he'll get nowhere near it. Five minutes later, he's on the floor moaning and scurrying away from you, and you'll think how it's sad that that's probably the only way the guy knows how to solve problems—use his fists.

Then you'll start wondering if Finn was a jock himself in high school.

"Uh, thanks," the girl will say, staring at you with wide brown eyes. "You didn't need to do that."

"Any decent person would _have _to," you'll correct.

"You're not from around here, are you?"

"How'd you tell?" You'll smile as you help her up and escort her to her locker, and you're both a tad impressed and sad how efficient she is with wiping the slush from her hair with a towel. "You're right, actually. I live in NYC. They're a little bit more _liberal _there."

She'll turn around. "You're Brody?" You'll blink, surprised, and then give her a nod. She'll blush profusely. "Sorry. I've just, um, heard a little bit about you. Rachel's friend, right?" She'll grin. "Choir room's this way. C'mon."

She'll lead you to a small, brightly-lit classroom; but you're not paying much attention to her commentary, because you're wondering exactly _how much _she knows about you. You'll snap out of it, though, when a pair of arms is thrown over your shoulders, and _Rachel's _there, hugging you, and you forget about everything else.

Finn will be there, too, glowering in the background. But you'll try to ignore him.

To your embarrassment, the girl will start telling them about how you saved her from that jock in the hallway. Her boyfriend, a guy called Jake, will pull her close and shoot you a grateful look. The rest of the glee club will look mildly impressed, and you'll be relieved you made a good first impression on Rachel's family.

Since you and the old glee club actually arrive a few days before the final performance, you're made to sit and watch as they put on their dress rehearsal in front of you. It's pretty good, actually; the voices are as good as they're going to get in a high school choir. _But _you'll think the dance moves can use a bit of stepping up. You'll say as much, too, and both Rachel and some guy called Mike will agree.

When Mr Schue asks what do you suggest, the three of you will smile and start choreographing.

They'll be used to quick changes in dancing, as it turns out. Ryder and Sam need no more than three hours to be on par, and Jake even less. After a while, you leave them and Mike to do a few last run-throughs so you can check out what Rachel's doing. You'll be surprised.

Rachel will be brutally pointing out the flaws in the footwork and timing of the girls, and you have to stifle a laugh as Unique, Kitty, Sugar, and Slushy Girl AKA Marley all look at her rebelliously. You'll have to have a moment to compose yourself before you go over to them and tell them their good points, too, and suggest how they could improve. Once they're busy practicing again, Rachel will turn to you helplessly. "Was I really _this _bad at dancing in the beginning of the year?" she'll whisper.

"No," you'll say comfortingly. "You weren't bad at all. You're just too used to the quality work in Cassie's class now."

She'll huff. "I'm starting to see why she was so irritated." She'll pause. "Don't tell her I said that."

When the sun's setting and you're all exhausted, they do one more run-through for you. And even though they're tired, they all have to admit, it's a much better routine than they had before.

Finn will glower at you again. It's only later that you'll find out he was the one who choreographed most of the first one.

* * *

To celebrate a good day's work, the old glee club will invite you to marathon movies of Broadway musicals with them; and because of Rachel's hopeful face, what can you do but accept? You'll be starting to like these guys, anyway. Quinn's sweet-as-sugar façade eases up Santana a little, Mercedes is calling both you and Kurt 'her boy' by the time you reach the parking lot, and you're too busy joshing with Noah/Puck to really remember that he used to be Rachel's boyfriend.

Then Finn will suggest you watch Les Mis for the first musical.

Santana's eyes will narrow, and Rachel will try to say she wanted to watch _Annie_, but Finn will be starting to put the DVD in so all you can do is watch. For a while, you won't see what the big deal is. Much as you pride yourself with knowing most of the Broadway greats, you _did _grow up in a farm; you know the songs, but you don't realy know the stories behind them. There's just an escaped convict named Jean Valjean running around Paris. So? Then the movie will progress on to Fantine, a lady who's fired from her job from a factory and needs to do something, _anything_, to feed her daughter. You'll feel dread in your stomach.

You _know_ that kind of desperation.

You'll watch, horrified and fascinated, as Fantine breaks down and becomes a prostitute, and all you can think is _oh God that's what happened to me, that's me. _You'll think you're ridiculous – it's a _movie _– but when she starts singing, and you _always _express yourself through song, you'll feel your eyes starting to prick with hot tears.

_I had a dream that my life would be / so different from this hell I'm living…._

That could have been you. That's all you'll be able to think about. That could have been you.

When she starts getting abused by some officer, you'll try to leave, muttering some excuse. But Finn's in front of the door. "What's the matter, Brody?" he'll ask, a sickly smile on his face. "Too familiar?"

"I don't-"

"And you didn't even have _her _excuse," he'll say wildly, and it's obvious he's been drinking while you weren't looking. "You just did it because you wanted it for yourself. Perverted freak. Unless you have some hideous daughter stashed away somewhere?"

You'll want to punch him. For a moment, you'll forget about Rachel in the room, forget that she still might have feelings for this guy, you'll want to punch him. Just once.

But someone does it for you.

Noah will be breathing hard, his face utterly livid, when he glowers at Finn. His fists will still be clenched even after the hit. "_Not cool_, dude."

Finn will try to backpedal. "I didn't mean-"

"Yeah, I know what you meant. Get the hell out before I beat the crap out of you."

"He doesn't deserve Rachel," he'll say sullenly.

Then the petite brunette herself will stand up; and she'll look _furious_, angrier than you'll have ever seen her before. "I think I'll decide for myself who deserves me, thank you, Finn," she'll say pointedly. "Now do as Noah says and get out."

For once, Finn will obey orders.

There'll be an awkward pause, and then Kurt will say slowly, "So…anyone up for _Phantom of the Opera_?"

Everyone will agree; and then they'll look at you, asking if you were okay with that. You'll stare at them, confused. Finn had just blurted out your secret. None of them were saying anything about it. Then, comprehension dawns. "You know," you'll say. "All of you know."

Rachel will chew her lip nervously. "Finn told them before spring break, Brody."

"And…you're okay with it?" you'll ask in disbelief.

It's Noah who answers. "You're _not_ anymore, right? You've gotten over it?" You'll nod slowly. "Then we're all good. Nobody here's gonna hold what you _were _against you; except maybe Finn, but he's being a pussy right now." He'll smirk at you wryly, and you'll swear there's almost a hint of respect in his eyes. "Besides, kinda rare to meet a dude who's done the nasty as much as _I _have."

And just like that, the tension will ease.

You'll realize what Rachel means when she said how her glee club accepted everyone, faults and all, and you'll grin when you understand that yes, that includes you too.

* * *

Rachel's dads are great. You don't need to worry about them; and you _can _open up to them, if you want to. Like the glee club members, Finn's told them about your past. But they trust their baby girl's assurances that you're okay. They'll invite you in for lunch after practice, they'll share embarrassing stories about Rachel when she's little, and they'll even show photos when she was three and wearing a red, sparkly leotard. Rachel will threaten to get you back when _she _visits _your_ family later in the summer, but you'll be too busy laughing to worry about it at that moment.

You really can open up to them. They've been judged as well, and they'll understand.

Besides, you'll get the Broadway themes of their jokes, which is more than Rachel's last boyfriend ever did.

* * *

You'll be the one driving the old glee club to Nationals. It's pretty much decided. Mercedes will claim she needs her manicure to dry off, Mike joined the other bus to sit with Tina and Kurt with Blaine, you don't even dare ask Santana and Quinn when they're giggling at you evilly like that, you don't count Finn at all, and Noah says that since he's the one lending the minivan, he shouldn't be the one suffering in the front.

Don't worry about it. Rachel will sit shotgun.

It'll be three hours before you arrive at your destination, so it'll be three hours of talking and joking and just hanging out that you've missedthese past two weeks. You're family's great; that's one thing you'll never doubt again. But Rachel's Rachel; your soul-mate, the person who understands you completely, the one who dragged you up from the bottom and brought out the best in you. You _love _spending time with her. At one point, you and she will even start singing those annoying road songs, much to the chagrin at the people on the back.

On the last ten minutes of your journey, you and she will start talking about serious stuff. She'll say that she talked to Finn.

She ended things between them. Permanently.

You'll ask what brought this on, and she'll roll her eyes and _look _at you, and you'll get a familiar fluttering feeling in your chest.

She'll ask something she'll say she should've ask before; how were you coping up with not being a prostitute anymore? And you'll reply it's not coping, it's _thriving_; you love it, and you'll thank her again and again on how she didn't give up on you.

She'll blush and look down adorably. "I've been thinking a lot about our…um, confrontation a lot," she'll say.

"Yeah?" You'll keep your eyes on the road, but you'll be curious at what she's going to say. You've solved most of your problems since then. What else could there be to talk about?

"We never clearly broke up, you know."

"Oh."

"And I was wondering if…." She'll trail off.

"If I still have feelings for you," you'll finish. She doesn't have to answer. You'll know you're right. A hint of a smile will play along your lips, and you'll tell her, "I still mean every word I said to you, Rachel."

"You do?"

"Include the time when I told you I always think about kissing you."

There'll be a smile in her voice when she'll say, "Oh, really?"

Your heart will be pounding so loud in your chest you'll wonder if she can hear it. "Really."

* * *

You won't get much farther than that when Finn asks loudly from the back if they're there yet. Then you'll have to pull over and park. That's all right. The moment might be spoiled, but Rachel will hold your hand all the way to the theatre, and she'll _keep _holding it, despite the rest of the club's stares. And when you and she take your seats, Santana will scare Finn off from sitting beside Rachel.

She is, after all, a hard-core friend.

You'll put your arm around Rachel, and she'll lean on your shoulder. When the music starts, you'll feel happier than you've ever have before in your life.

When they announce New Direction's win and she kisses you under the spotlight, you'll know that this is how things are truly meant to be.

Never give up hope that things _do _turn out right in the end. Keep being optimistic, try not to wear those jaded glasses so much, and for God's sake, don't name your daughter Cosette. Frankly, it embarrasses her, and Rachel will never let you hear the end of it.

Sincerely,

Brody

* * *

_A/N: I didn't really write this because of Westberry (even though I love it) or because I don't like Finn (to be more precise, how possessive, violet, and downright petty he is this season). I wrote it because I cannot believe that Rachel would actually leave Brody like that without trying to help him. It's established that he doesn't like being a prostitute, and I hate that the show just says it's okay to leave your friends in that situation. It's not. Hopefully this is rectified in canon as well as in this fanfiction._

_Either way, I hope you liked it. Feedback and reviews are welcome. _


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